Wayward
by Mouse and Stupid Productions
Summary: High school AU. John left Dean and Sam with Bobby in Cedar Grove - a town that specializes in training hunters. Dean was absolutely determined to hate it but against his better judgment found himself making friends with a few of the locals, especially a socially awkward Castiel Milton. (friendship, family, romance, hunting things, Destiel, and my first SPN fic, rating to change)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic. It's AU but people are still hunters. I'm also scraping together the plot while I go, so bear with me. The title is subject to change. (and you all get bonus points and a real, genuine reply from me if you review! (and yes, pretty much every fic I write in any universe will start with a chapter called Welcome to the Jungle)). **

_Chapter One - Welcome to the Jungle_

The radio was playing "Back in Black." It seemed that the radio was always playing "Back in Black" or "Enter Sandman" or "Sympathy for the Devil" or basically anything that had come out before 1990. Since there was only one radio station in town, there wasn't much anyone could do about it, especially since the radio was controlled by Lucifer Milton, who enjoyed waking up the town every hour starting at six with a loud shout of, "Good morning, Vietnam!"

It was the shout that woke Dean up. He blinked and shielded his eyes against the grey light filtering through the window. The soft sounds of snoring made him roll over on the couch to see his twelve year old brother, Sammy, curled into a ball on the floor around a fat bulldog and a whole litter of kittens.

As the radio kept playing, Dean realized he could smell sizzling bacon, frying eggs, and fresh coffee. He sat up and looked towards the kitchen to discover Bobby standing at the stove whistling along to the music.

Slowly, he remembered where he was. The night before, they had arrived in Cedar Grove, WA. Bobby and Ellen had given Dean the couch, Sam a sleeping bag, and their dad, John, the guest room. They were making a pit stop before they headed off to the Olympic Peninsula to deal with some Twi-Hards who had gone a bit overboard on the Cullen family cosplay.

Dean stood up and stretched before he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," Bobby said. At the kitchen table, Jo giggled. When they had arrived last night, Jo had promptly introduced Sam to all her new kittens with the enthusiastic statement, "I named them Fluffy, and Mittens, and Buttons, and Precious, and Venezuela because it sounds cool and there's a Z in it and my dad's teaching me how to make my own shells full of rock salt, and I think we should just put holy water in with the salt, but he says it doesn't work very well and he won't let me make the casings out of silver either, but that would just be three demons with one bullet."

The fluidity with which she could shift from ten-year-old girl with a soft spot for Disney princesses to a hunter-in-training was scary as hell. Dean could just see it – in a few years, he was going to be out on the road where he belonged, hunting down a wendigo or something, and then out of nowhere this bright and bubbly blonde girl with a princess dress and a shotgun was going to appear out of nowhere and kick it's ass before he got the chance.

"Dean, are you and Sam going to school with me today?" Jo asked, smiling up at him. He sat down across from her and took a drink of his coffee.

"Uh, no, princess, I think we're headed over to gank some vampires," he replied.

"Dean, about that," Bobby started. He sounded gruff and apologetic. Dean didn't know quite what to make of it.

"What's up?" he asked.

"We sent someone else out to Forks," Bobby said. "We sent 'em out about six hours before you boys got here."

Dean frowned. "You guys never mess up a communication," he said.

"No, we don't," Bobby replied. "But your dad lies."

An ugly silence fell over the kitchen. Jo glanced between Dean and Bobby with a worried look.

"Bobby," Dean said, a metallic edge creeping into his voice.

"I'm sorry Dean," Bobby replied.

"What do you mean you're 'sorry'?" Dean demanded, jumping up from the table and ducking out the back door. In the muddy spot where they'd parked the Impala the night before, there was now nothing besides trenches filled with brackish rainwater. Someone could've knocked Dean over with a feather.

He returned to the kitchen determined not to let the hollowness and the abandonment show. After all, John took off a lot. Most of the past twelve years had been Dean and Sammy in motels waiting for him. They spent a lot of summers in Cedar Grove with Bobby, and then later with Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Ash. But most of the time they were on the road with John or waiting for John. He'd never just _left_ them somewhere without saying goodbye before.

"Bobby, did you make breakfast?" Sam asked, stumbling into the kitchen and scratching his head while he yawned.

"Sure did," Bobby replied, scraping the eggs and bacon and toast onto four plates and setting them at the table. "BOY!"

The bellow shook the house and called the dog. Moments later, Ash staggered into the kitchen and fell onto the chair next to Jo.

"Where're Dad and Ellen?" Sam asked, taking a drink of Dean's coffee. Dean snatched it back and gave him a bad look.

"You don't get to drink this stuff, it'll stunt your growth," Dean said.

"I'll be fine," Sam promised.

"Mom's already at work," Ash replied.

"How would you know? You just got up," Dean said.

"Dude, I know _everything_," Ash replied, shaking out his mullet with a theatrical flourish. Dean winced slightly. Bobby and Ellen were the aunt and uncle he'd always wanted, and Jo was Ellen's daughter, so of course she was family as well. But Ash had just sort of…materialized out of thin air as far as Dean could tell. Bobby and Ellen had taken him in when he was about eight and for the past six years, he'd called them Mom and Dad. Dean had no problems with him, but he was sort of weird.

"And where did Dad go?" Sam asked, stealing a piece of Dean's bacon. Dean glowered at him, but allowed it since their dad's departure was going to piss him off.

"He went for a job in Texas," Bobby explained.

"Texas," Sam repeated blankly. He glanced at Dean, who was staring very intently at his eggs and bacon so he didn't have to see the disappointment on Sammy's face. "He's leaving us here?"

"For the time being," Bobby replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting at the head of the table.

"He's not coming back, is he," Sam said. The fact Sam didn't even question it cut through Dean like a knife.

"Of course he's coming back," Dean replied. "He always comes back."

"Yeah, because he's ditched us in motels," Sam said. "Now he left us here. He doesn't have to come back."

"Don't talk about your father that way," Bobby scolded. "Your daddy loves you boys very much."

Sam mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "sure he does," but let it drop.

"Does this mean you guys are coming to school with us?" Jo asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Wait, really?" Sam asked, _his_ eyes lighting up. Dean's eye twitched. His baby brother was such a nerd, but he looked so excited about the idea of actually going to school that he couldn't find it in himself to say no.

"Yep, and we're about to be late," Bobby said. "Everyone grab your stuff."

Jo and Ash ran off to collect their backpacks and left Dean and Sam and Bobby in the kitchen in uncomfortable silence.

"Did he say when he would be back?" Dean asked.

Bobby sighed and stood up to do dishes.

"Bobby," Dean said.

"You boys need a proper education," Bobby replied. "You ain't no good to anyone if you're stranded somewhere because you didn't know how to budget your money well enough to pay for gas."

"Bobby," Dean said again.

"Go see if you can borrow one of Ash's notebooks, Sam," Bobby recommended. "I'm sure you'd hate to miss any of the notes you'll have to take in class."

"Okay," Sam said, jumping out of his chair and running away from the tense atmosphere in the kitchen. Dean heard him run up the stairs.

"You can borrow one of mine!" Jo exclaimed.

"Don't do it they're all covered in Disney Princesses!" Ash shouted back.

Bobby and Dean stared at each other and tried to ignore the kids upstairs. Even though Dean was only two years older than Ash, he felt like he was a competent adult while Ash was still just a kid.

"What did he say, Bobby?" Dean asked quietly enough that Sam wouldn't be able to hear in case he was eavesdropping.

Bobby sighed and rubbed his scruffy jaw and readjusted his hat.

"He said it wasn't healthy for you boys to grow up on the road," Bobby said. "He said he's a crappy hunter when he's constantly worrying about you boys. And it's not fair to you to ask you to raise Sammy by yourself while he's off killing things."

Dean gaped at him. "So he's – he's what? He's hunting by himself now?"

They had a rule. You _never_ hunt by yourself. It just gets your ass killed. It was expressly forbidden by the Hunters' Council. Hunters who went out on their own died every damn day. Dean was sixteen now. He was pretty much John's partner these days. What the hell was he thinking running off by himself and leaving Dean in Cedar Grove with Bobby?

"Your dad's been hunting by himself since Bill died," Bobby replied. "And making you a babysitter. It's about damn time you boys got to have your own life with a better home than that damn Impala."

Dean stared at Bobby with hard eyes. "Did _he_ decide to leave us here or did you make him?"

"It wasn't like that, Dean," Bobby said. Dean had a feeling it was exactly like that, but before they could get into a full blown fight, the kids returned to the kitchen.

"Here Dean," Jo said, offering him a bright pink spiral bound notebook with a picture of Rapunzel on it. Jo giggled. "She's got your eyes."

Sam and Ash burst out laughing while Dean's face contorted into utter confusion.

"She what?" he asked, looking down at the notebook.

Jo didn't elaborate and Bobby shepherded them out to the car. After the three kids were loaded in the backseat, Bobby stopped Dean with a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, kid, you can be as pissed as you want at me or your dad or whoever, but you're staying here and that's final," Bobby said. His tone promised Dean pain if he pitched a fit, so Dean wrenched open the car door and sat in the front seat. He didn't like this plan. Not a bit.

Cedar Grove was a unique town. The entire 5,000 person population was made up of people who had experienced the supernatural in some way. Half the town were hunters, especially since the Hunters' Council had made Cedar Grove its headquarters in 1974. They ran dispatch from the city to hunters all over the country. The rest of the town's population was formed by people who had been possessed, or haunted, or run afoul of any of the other nasty creatures that went bump in the night and wanted a safe place to stay. The local school – serving ages 5 through 18 for general education – also offered classes to anyone who wanted to be a hunter. Those classes were mandatory for the high schoolers, but optional to anyone else.

Dean knew all this as Bobby parked the car in front of Truman Elemiddhigh. But Dean was already in the field. He had beheaded a vampire, he had exorcised a demon, he had teamed up with a golem and a very confused rabbi's grandson to gank an un-dead Nazi. He didn't need to take any damn classes in the subject.

The halls were full of people checking their lockers. Jo and Ash immediately ran off to their classes and left Dean and Sam with Bobby and the hordes of people their own age. It wasn't something either Winchester was used to.

"We've got to go to the main office," Bobby explained, steering them down the hall to the painfully sterile front room. The secretary glanced up when they walked in and her bright eyes drifted from Bobby to Sam to Dean and then back to Bobby.

"These are the Winchester boys?" she asked.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed.

"Right, well, as their legal guardian, you're going to have to fill out the enrolment paperwork before-"

"Legal guardian?" Dean repeated, giving her an incredulous look.

"Closest you've got," Bobby replied, taking the paperwork. To Dean's dismay, Sam seemed completely fine with all this.

"And boys, Principal McLeod would like to meet you before you go off to class," the secretary said. She gestured to a door on her left and smiled at them to indicate they should go in.

Dean groaned and followed ever-eager Sam into the principal's office. He was pretty sure he'd be spending a lot of time there if they actually had to stay in Cedar Grove for longer than a week.

Principal McLeod was in her late thirties with bright blue eyes and auburn hair swept up into a tight bun. Her office was just as white and sterile as the receptionist's. Dean was instantly distrustful of her. She was smiling at them, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"You two must be Sam and Dean," she said. Dean wondered if she was going to ask them to sit. She didn't. "Welcome to Cedar Grove. Now, because of your…sporadic…education thus far, we've had to assign you to the easier classes until we get the opportunity to judge your skill sets."

"Sammy doesn't belong in the remedial classes," Dean said instantly. "Kid's probably smarter than you are."

"Dean," Sam groaned, looking like he wanted to strangle him. "The easier classes will be fine for now, Principal McLeod. But in the high school levels, are there AP classes?"

"AP classes?" Dean asked.

Principal McLeod looked just as surprised as Dean. "Um…yes, we do offer a few AP classes," she said. "What about you, Dean? Do you have any interest in AP classes?"

"I like hunting," Dean replied. "You know, saving people, hunting things. Not sitting in classes."

"I see," Principal McLeod said, her smile thinning. "Well, let's just start with some easy classes and see where we end up. I think Rachel will have your schedules. It was nice to meet you boys."

"Yeah, you too," Sam said in that annoyingly genuine voice of his. Dean managed to not roll his eyes and followed Sam back into the secretary's office.

"Here are your schedules, boys," the secretary said, handing them two sheets of paper. "Your locker assignments and combinations are on the bottom so that they're easy to tear off and throw away. Wouldn't want anyone getting into your stuff, now would we?"

Dean faked a smile at her and accepted his piece of paper. He shoved it into his pocket and gave Bobby an annoyed look. Bobby ignored him.

"I've got English first," Sam said, sounding excited. "I wonder what book we're reading."

Bobby looked up from his paperwork. "You boys go to class. I'll be back to pick you up at two thirty."

Dean grumbled his way out of the office and realized he should look at his schedule. Like Sam, he had English first. He bid goodbye to Sam and headed up the stairs to room 218. The room was half-full already and a bearded teacher was scribbling notes on the board.

"Hi, can I help you?" he asked, smiling at Dean.

He looked hungover, Dean decided. He figured he could accept that.

"I think I'm supposed to be in this class," he said, holding out his crumpled schedule.

"Ah," the teacher said. "Well, I'm Mr. Shurley, but everyone calls me Chuck. We're not reading anything too horrifying right now, just _The Grapes of Wrath_. Why don't you have a seat there, next to Charlie?"

"Which one's Charlie?" Dean asked, surveying his new classmates. The few who were there were sleeping on their desks. One kid – who looked sort of like an anthropomorphic teddy bear – was reading the assigned book. Dean wasn't sure if he was catching up or reading ahead.

"Charlie!" Chuck called.

A startled, petite redhead looked up from her desk and pulled off her oversized headphones.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"That's Charlie," Chuck said, shooing Dean down the aisle. He fell into the desk next to Charlie and drummed his fingers on the table.

Charlie pulled her headphones back up and went back to scribbling in her notebook. Dean didn't pay much attention to it until class had started and Chuck started lecturing them about symbolism in Steinbeck's work and the hopelessness of the Joad family, whatever the hell that was about. Dean glanced over at Charlie's desk. She was still writing furiously, bent almost double over the paper like she was trying to keep anyone else from reading it. If she was just taking notes, Dean couldn't understand why she would be so secretive about it. But even though he hadn't read _The Grapes of Wrath, _he was pretty sure that no one was "tastefully caressed" and no one "carded his hands through Legolas's silky elfish locks."

"Are you writing fanfiction porn in class?" Dean whispered.

Charlie gave him a sharp look. "It's not porn," she said. "It's an epic love story."

Dean swallowed a laugh.

"Charlie, Dean, care to share?" Chuck asked with a plaintive smile. Charlie tensed up immediately. Dean had been forced to read a passed note in front of the class before, but he was pretty sure Charlie would die of embarrassment if Chuck made her read her "epic love story."

"No sir," Dean said.

Chuck nodded and went back to his lecture while Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she whispered. Dean nodded. It would've been his fault if she got in trouble anyways. It was the least he could do.

After class was over and Chuck had leant Dean a copy of the book to read, Dean figured he should try to find his locker. He found it without too much difficulty and stuffed his jacket and new book inside. When he closed it, he discovered he was being stared at.

The kid staring at him was about his age with strikingly blue eyes and a gaze that looked like he was searching Dean's soul.

"Can I help you?" Dean asked.

The kid pointed at the locker below Dean's. "That's mine."

Dean nodded and ducked out of the scrawny, awkward kid's way. He was subjected to math next, which was his least favorite thing besides reading. He was good at hustling pool, but most of his math experience came from counting cards and he was pretty bad at that. Bobby kept trying to teach him during the summers he spent in Cedar Grove, but the lessons had never stuck.

In his math class, he found himself partnered with the anthropomorphic teddy bear from his English class who turned out to have a Louisiana drawl and was named Benny.

Benny wasn't much good at math either, and by the end of the period they had decided it was going to be them against the system and for fuck's sake, they were going to kick its ass.

After math, he had to go to his science class. Benny and Charlie were both in his class, as was the awkward kid with the locker below his. Science grew on him quickly, because they'd been in the room for about two minutes before their teacher heated up a test tube full of something and dropped a gummy bear inside. Instantly, a horrible screaming noise that recalled a dying banshee filled the room. Everyone winced as bright white and purple flames shot out of the test tube.

"I'm never eating gummy bears again," Charlie whispered, looking horrified. "They were vessels of happiness and rainbows, but if they scream like _that_."

Dean and Benny nodded in agreement.

After science, it was time for lunch. Dean didn't have a sack lunch or any lunch money and, frankly, lunch had been the worst time in every school he'd ever been to. He looked around the cafeteria and realized that the lunches had to be staggered because only the high schoolers seemed to be there. Benny and Charlie had both disappeared back to their lockers after chemistry was over, so he was by himself. He sat down at an empty table and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with himself for forty minutes. He decided to spend it observing his schoolmates. The table in the center was packed with people, seemingly centered on the awkward kid with the locker below his, and three other people all with equally blue eyes. With a frown, he realized they all had the same eyes as Principal McLeod.

"Don't stare too hard or they'll notice you exist," Charlie said, sitting in the seat next to him. He jumped. Within moments, Benny sat down across from him. They both had school lunches and by unspoken consensus handed him a portion of their food.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Don' be stupid," Benny replied. "We both live on the town's good graces. We can recognize a lost cause when we see one. So what'd you run into that got your ass stuck here?"

"Town's good graces?" Dean asked.

"Well, you know how Cedar Grove collects all the people who run into anything spooky?" Charlie explained. "When we're orphans or foster kids or whatever, they stick us in the dormitories with the expectation that we're going to grow up and work for the Council for three years."

"Like the way soldiers can go to college if they serve for however many years," Benny added. "But you're really new, aren't you."

"Uh…sort of," Dean said. "I've been in the life since I was four."

Charlie and Benny exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"Since you were _four_?" Charlie repeated.

"I mean, back then I mostly just took care of my little brother while our dad and his partner hunted things," Dean explained. "But I've been to Cedar Grove before."

"Whoa, so you're, like, a legacy hunter?" Charlie asked. "Cool. Are you living in the dormitories?"

"No," Dean said. "And I'm not gonna be here very long. Just until my dad gets back."

"Oh," Charlie replied, sounding disappointed. "That must be nice. Having your dad come back for you."

Benny gave her a sympathetic look that she missed because she was staring at her food.

"So who are the blue eyed people who look scarily related to our principal?" Dean asked.

"The Miltons," Benny replied with a growl. "There's about a thousand of them and their dad's the priest."

"Isn't the principal's name McLeod?" Dean asked.

"She's the oldest," Charlie piped up. "And she was married, and then divorced, but she kept her ex-husband's last name."

"And half the Miltons are adopted, but no one can really remember which ones except for Uriel and Raphael because it's obvious," Benny said. "Father Milton tends to take in the 'good kids.'"

Dean frowned and glanced between his two companions. "And neither of you qualified?"

Benny just laughed while Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, Catholic priests don't really like adopting lesbians with criminal records," Charlie said.

"That's shitty," Dean replied.

Charlie shrugged. "I'd rather live in the dormitories. No one yells at me when I'm hogging the wi-fi."

Dean didn't really care either way about the internet, but nodded. Lunch passed quickly and Benny and Charlie went off to their next class, leaving Dean to fend for himself in social studies. It was about comparative religions and his teacher didn't like him straight off the bat.

Fortunately, after that he had his first hunter class. It was in the gym, which had been dressed in wrestling mats. He was the only one still wearing civilian clothes. Everyone else was dressed in exercise attire, including Charlie, who was now wearing a green shirt that said "Keep calm and roll initiative" and yoga pants with her long red hair pulled up into a ponytail. She gave Dean's jeans, boots, and flannel a once over.

"Henricksen's going to kick your ass," she said.

Dean didn't know who Henricksen was, but didn't really care. "Let him try," he said.

Charlie stared at him like he'd just spoken sacrilege, but didn't say anything.

Henricksen turned out to be their instructor. He clearly meant business and had a whistle slung around his neck. He narrowed his eyes at the class and noticed Dean's improper dress.

"Plaid," he barked, glaring at Dean.

"Whistle," Dean replied.

A few people snorted and quickly stifled their laughter behind their hands.

"The next time you show up in my class, you will be wearing appropriate attire," Henricksen commanded. "Or there will be consequences."

"When you're hunting, do you really pause to change into your sneakers?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow.

Henricksen bristled and directed his attention elsewhere.

"Bradbury," he said.

Charlie jumped to attention. "Yes sir!"

"Why don't you and your partner show our new recruit what we do in this class," Henricksen said. Charlie groaned softly and stepped forward. She was joined by a girl about her size with dark hair and electric blue eyes that immediately identified her as a Milton.

This suspicion was confirmed when Henricksen barked out his orders. "Milton, vampire."

The Milton girl nodded and immediately changed her posture to be more predatory.

"Do I have to?" Charlie asked, looking scared.

Henricksen just glared and blew his whistle.

Immediately, the Milton girl went on the offensive and attacked Charlie the way a vampire might. Dean was pretty sure a real vampire wouldn't be as easily enticed to attack. These days, with the blood banks and the Teen Paranormal Romance section in Barnes & Nobles, volunteers weren't that hard to come by.

Nonetheless, Charlie tried her best to defend herself against the vampire attack. Henricksen blew his whistle when the Milton girl had her teeth dangerously close to Charlie's neck.

"And you're dead," Henricksen said. "Who can tell us what she did wrong? Winchester, perhaps?"

"Went out alone," Dean replied. "Vampires by themselves are pretty easy. The fast partner plays bait and the sneaky one sneaks up behind and ganks 'em."

Henricksen blinked at him for a moment. Before he could shout at Dean or order him into calisthenics or something, the gym door burst open and the awkward kid with the locker below Dean's skidded in, slipped on the wrestling mats, and fell gracelessly to the floor.

A few people snickered.

"Milton," Henricksen said with disdain.

"What?" the Milton girl fighting against Charlie and two other people in the crowd asked in perfect unison.

"The one on the floor," Henricksen said.

The awkward kid scrambled to his feet and rearranged his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. "Yes sir?" he asked, looking very much like he didn't want to be there.

"What is my rule about tardiness?" Henricksen asked.

"Be on time or don't be here at all," the kid quoted, staring at his feet.

"Exactly," Henricksen said. "But today I might just have a use for you."

The kid's head snapped up and he stared at Henricksen in horror. Dean got the immediate sense that he was used to being a punching bag. If Benny was right and there were about a thousand Miltons, he had to wonder where this kid ranked on the totem pole. He thought it probably wasn't very high.

"Winchester, do you think you know a lot about werewolves?" Henricksen asked.

"I know enough," Dean replied.

"Fine then," Henricksen said. "Milton. Werewolf."

The awkward kid shot Henricksen an evil glare the moment Henricksen was looking away. Dean found himself giving their clearly vindictive instructor the same look. He had a few inches and about sixty pounds of muscle on the kid. It would take him no effort at all to break the guy and that was a bad thing to do to normal people.

Charlie and the Milton girl backed away from the front of the room, leaving Dean and the awkward kid front and center. Henricksen blew his whistle and for a moment, Dean was pretty sure the kid wasn't going to actually attack him.

He was very wrong.

But he wasn't fighting like a werewolf, Dean realized as he ducked a gut punch. He was fighting like an angry little brother. It was the same sort of fight Sammy gave him whenever Dean had to remind him he wasn't big enough to take on the creepy-crawlies by himself.

Dean wasn't sure if they were actually supposed to hit each other in the sparring matches, but suddenly a compact and surprisingly strong fist connected with his lip. He recoiled and knocked the awkward kid's legs out from under him, dropping to the mat next to him with a knee on his chest. On instinct, he pulled the silver knife out of his boot and pressed it to the awkward kid's throat.

The awkward kid didn't look scared, to his credit. There was a fire in his unnaturally blue eyes that seemed to be daring Dean to do it, to waste him right then and there because it would be preferable to whatever the hell was waiting for him when they got out of school.

Henricksen was blowing his whistle but Dean didn't really register that fact until Henricksen grabbed his wrist and pulled the knife out of his hands and manhandled Dean to his feet. He pulled the awkward kid up as well and glared at both of them before he handed Dean his knife back.

He kept glaring while he pulled out his clipboard and started scribbling on it.

"Dean Winchester – violation for having a knife in sparring classes," Henricksen muttered. "Castiel Milton – violation for unprovoked genuine attack and unexcused tardiness."

"Are you serious?" one of the other Miltons asked.

Henricksen ignored him and turned back to Dean and the awkward kid who was apparently named Castiel. "You'll both be serving detention today after school."

Dean accepted his detention slip with as much composure as he could.

"What happened?" Charlie whispered as Henricksen started lecturing them on proper form when it came to running the fuck away.

"I won," Dean replied, wondering what she was getting at.

"Do you always keep a knife in your boot?" she asked.

"My dad gave it to me," Dean said, realizing that it probably wasn't an answer that she was looking for. But to him it made perfect sense. His dad's closest proxy of fatherly love was gifting his sons with weapons, so of course Dean always kept the knife in his boot. And he planned to continue that trend now that John had evaporated on them.

He glanced back at Henricksen's lecture and realized it was going to be a very long week.

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well this took longer than expected. Oh well. Anyone reading this who chooses to review I like you very much indeed. **

Chapter Two - Detention

"There's even a pretty girl in one of my classes," Sam enthused while they sat on the front steps of the school and waited for Bobby. Dean was going to have to run back inside for his detention the minute Bobby got there, but he wasn't about to let Sam wait alone.

"Yeah? What's her name?" Dean asked.

"Amy Pond," Sam replied, grinning. Dean laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Did you really get detention on your first day?"

Sam and Dean looked up to find Ash staring down at them. He sat on the other side of Sam and kept staring at Dean with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Dean, what'd you do?" Sam asked.

"They were 'teaching' us how to hunt werewolves so I pulled out my knife," Dean replied. Sam groaned.

"We were going to fit in here, Dean," Sam said.

"For how long before Dad comes back?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "He's not _coming_ back, Dean. He ditched us here, and thank god for that."

"What are you guys talking about?" Jo asked, sitting next to Dean.

"Don't worry about it," Dean recommended as Bobby's car pulled up to the front of the school.

Dean walked over to the driver's side while the other three climbed in. Bobby rolled down his window and gave Dean a suspicious look.

"I got detention," Dean explained, although judging by Bobby's face, his explanation was unnecessary.

"You don't say," Bobby replied. "What time do you need to be picked up?"

"Don't worry about it," Dean said. "I'll walk."

Bobby continued to look suspicious while Dean walked back into the school. In the gym, he found Henricksen waiting for him. The socially awkward kid with the locker below his wasn't there yet, and Henricksen's stoic silence suggested they would be waiting.

After a moment, the kid turned up out of breath with a backpack spewing books.

Henricksen surveyed them both for a moment and then beckoned them towards the locker rooms. It smelled so bad Dean almost threw up when he walked in. He normally prided himself on having a strong stomach, but this was _nasty_.

"What is that?" the socially awkward kid demanded, his eyes watering.

"Halfway through fourth period a body fell out of the ceiling and a ghoul showed up and started eating," Henricksen explained. "Milton, your brother eradicated it, but you boys get to clean it up."

"With what?" Dean asked. "Because I think you might be better off burning the place down and starting over."

The Milton kid nodded in agreement but Henricksen ignored them, handed them one of the rolling janitor's carts and an industrial sized plastic bag.

"The body parts can go in here," he said. "I'll be back in two hours."

"Two-" the Milton kid started to protest, but Henricksen was gone, and from the click of the door, Dean was pretty sure he'd just locked them in.

"Asshole," Dean grumbled, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

"Me or Henricksen?" the Milton kid asked, dropping his backpack.

"Henricksen," Dean replied. After all, the kid hadn't done anything to him that he hadn't been told to do. Sure, Dean's lip was swollen, but it wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him. It was really decidedly not the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

"Sorry about punching you in the face," the Milton kid said.

Dean shrugged. "I've just got one of those faces," he replied. "Sorry about holding a knife to your throat."

"I've just got one of those throats," the Milton kid replied in a perfect deadpan.

Dean burst out laughing. "I'm Dean," he said.

"My name is Castiel," the Milton kid replied.

"So what do you say, Cas?" Dean asked. "Want to clean up the monster gunk?"

Castiel nodded and they rounded the corner. Between the walls of lockers, there was a hole in the ceiling. On top of the fallen ceiling panels, there was a pool of blood and two tangled bodies that matched perfectly. Dean guessed that the entirely eviscerated one was the victim and the headless one was the ghoul.

"That's gross," Castiel said.

Dean shrugged and dug through the janitor's cart for gloves. Once he found them, they got to work gingerly placing the body parts in the bag. Dean hoped they would be whisked off for prompt incineration.

"Your brother got this bastard?" Dean asked, cringing as he dropped the ghoul's head into the bag.

Castiel shrugged and worked on filling a bucket with holy water and bleach.

"They get up to a lot of things they don't tell me about," Castiel replied.

Dean nodded and picked up the dead guy's forearm. He inspected the watch for a moment and reasoned with himself that it needed to be burned. It was covered in blood and nothing said "angry spirit" like being murdered, left in a public school ceiling, and being eaten by a ghoul.

"Are you really related to Principal McLeod?" Dean asked, pitching the arm into the bag. Castiel looked mildly nauseous, and at first Dean thought it was about the arm, but then he nodded.

"She's my oldest sister," he said. "And then she's twenty years older than I am, and there are thirteen of us."

Dean blinked in shock. "Must make for awkward Christmases," he replied.

Castiel shrugged. "I mostly just avoid them. And our dad mostly just avoids us, so it works out."

He grabbed the mop from the cart and dunked it into the bleach and holy water before he drizzled it into the mess of blood, ceiling tiles, and general viscera.

"So which brother would've ganked this bastard?" Dean asked, dropping a few more pieces of ghoul – or was it the victim? He couldn't tell anymore – into the bag.

"It definitely wasn't Sammy," Castiel replied. "He's only a freshman."

Dean felt the corner of his lips twitch as a smile crept across his face. "My little brother's name is Sammy. But he's twelve."

"But it's short for Samuel, right?" Castiel guessed.

"Instead of what?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Samandriel," Castiel replied.

"Jesus," Dean said. "What is with your family? Castiel, Samandriel-"

"Naomi, Zachariah, Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, Anna, Hester, Balthazar, Hael…" Castiel listed. "By which I meant 'a lot.' A lot is wrong with my family."

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

"What about you?" Castiel asked, rinsing out the mop and returning to the blood.

"Uh…" Dean said.

Castiel immediately backpedalled. "It's okay," he said. "You don't have to tell me anything. I get it. Families suck."

Dean shrugged and scooped up a handful of small intestine. "My mom died when Sammy and I were just kids," he said. "And right now we're staying with our dad's best friend Bobby."

"Bobby Singer?" Castiel asked. Dean nodded. "My little brother Sammy is friends with Ash."

"Of course he is," Dean replied.

"I thought Ash said you guys were cousins," Castiel added.

Dean immediately felt like an asshole. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess," he said. "Bobby's the closest we've got to an uncle, so Ellen's the closest we've got to an aunt, and so yeah, I guess Jo and Ash would be our cousins."

Castiel stared at him for a long moment with soul-searching, stunningly blue eyes. They made Dean uncomfortable.

"You made friends with Charlie Bradbury and Benny Lafitte," Castiel said after a long moment of awkward staring. "I like Charlie."

"You guys friends?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked startled by the question. "Oh," he said. "No, we've never spoken."

Dean raised his eyebrow and ducked under the benches to collect the poor dead bastard's foot.

"She just seems like a nice person," Castiel elaborated. "Accepting."

Dean threw the combat boot clad foot into the bag and nodded. "Yeah, she seems pretty cool."

They worked in silence for a bit and then ventured into the topic of music. To Dean's dismay, Castiel hated most of his music because it was always playing on Cedar Grove's one radio station. And since that station was run by his older brother, Castiel had no use for it. Instead he listened to weird shit like Rachmaninoff and Beethoven and Tchaikovsky and something called Imagine Dragons.

"But…Metallica," Dean said as they threw the pieces of the ceiling into the garbage can.

"No," Castiel replied. "Seriously, you wake up to 'Master of Puppets' enough times and it gets old."

Dean shook his head sadly and glanced around long enough to realise they had successfully cleaned the entire locker room and were now left with a tub of bloody bleach water and a bag full of dismembered body parts.

"Do you suppose we should just dump the rest of the bleach on the floor and call it a day?" Castiel asked.

"Check to see if there's anything that smells good in there because this place reeks," Dean recommended, investigating the cart. There was a bottle of blue fluid that smelled sort of like lavender, so he went through the locker room spraying it while Castiel followed with the bleach.

"It smelled like this before," Castiel said.

"Shit, really?" Dean asked, giving him a horrified look.

"Well, there was a dead body in the ceiling," Castiel pointed out. Dean accepted that as a decent reason and went back to spraying.

"And we've only got two minutes until Henricksen lets us out," he said, setting the spray back in the janitor's cart. Castiel nodded and fell onto one of the benches next to his backpack and a dirty tan trench coat. Dean picked up his own leather jacket and reclined on one of the other benches.

His head was starting to hurt and absently, he noticed that there was a strange white gas radiating from the floor.

"Hey, Cas," he said, finding he had to blink very hard to keep his eyes open and concentrate in order to form words. "Do you – smell -"

•

It was quite bright when Dean woke up. There were fluorescent lights above his head beating into his eyes angrily. He realised, based on the irritated breathing, that Bobby was staring at him.

Slowly, Dean sat up and guessed he was in the school nurse's office. Bobby had his arms crossed and a very disapproving look on his face. A quick glance to the side showed Castiel waking up, looking just as befuddled as Dean.

"Which one of you idjits had the bright idea to mix bleach and ammonia?" Bobby asked.

"I did," Dean and Cas grumbled in perfect unison.

Bobby kept glowering at both of them. "So you're sticking up for each other then?"

Before Bobby could read them the riot act, the door to the nurse's office opened and a tall man with blue eyes walked in. Dean immediately categorized him as a Milton.

"You're both going to be fine," he assured them. "But Mr Henricksen isn't going to be allowed to issue either of you detention from here on out. Failure to provide proper instruction when dealing with toxic chemicals disqualifies him."

"Thanks, Zeke," Castiel said, groaning his way into a sitting position.

"And Mr Singer, you'll be taking Dean home, right?" Zeke Milton – apparently the school nurse – asked.

"Kid, you drop Samandriel off at my house often enough that you can call me Bobby," Bobby replied. "And yeah, he's coming home."

Dean slid off the cot and pulled on his jacket.

"Do you need a lift, kid?" Bobby asked, addressing Castiel. Dean saw him glance at his elder brother and shake his head.

"No, but thank you," he said.

Dean lifted his hand in farewell and followed Bobby out to the car.

"You know, Bobby, I do have my driver's licence," Dean reasoned while he climbed into the front seat.

"Do you have a car?" Bobby asked. Dean fell silent. "That's what I thought."

Dean kept staring out the window while they drove through Cedar Grove. It was exactly like every small town. There was a small strip mall with an antiquated movie rental joint, a pizza place, an army-navy surplus store. There a one room movie theatre, a Laundromat, a bar – Harvelle's Roadhouse – and they had their own bowling alley. Of course, there was also a Safeway somewhere in town, and a hardware store, and the gas station over by Bobby's. Dean was pretty sure he'd heard of there being a library, but he wasn't sure. Bobby and Ellen's house was enough of a library that he didn't really have any use for a real library.

The bulldog, Rascal, was very excited to see Dean when they got back to Bobby's. Dean flinched away from it and edged into the house while the dog kept trying to lick him with his slobber and slime filled jowls.

"Dean," Ellen said, with a disapproving look. Dean winced and looked sheepish.

"Sorry," he said.

She rolled her eyes and cuffed him upside the head before she went back to washing dishes. "Just so you're aware, Sam and Ash hatched plans to share a room, so you're in the guest room. I think Sam figured you'd like it better here if you got your own room."

"Until Dad comes back," Dean added.

Ellen sighed and exchanged a look with Bobby. It was one of those looks that said things, a full conversation with a single glance, and Dean didn't understand a word of it. He wasn't sure if it was something married couples just acquired by happenstance or if it was just Bobby and Ellen. They were the only married couple he'd ever been around really, so he didn't have much to go on.

"Why don't you go put your stuff in your room and share your warning tale about mixing chemicals with the kids," Ellen suggested. Dean was grateful she didn't count him as one of the kids, and purely for that reason, he picked his duffle bag up from the living room floor and made his way up the stairs.

The guest room was sparse, but well kept. Dean was pretty sure Ellen had been in charge of decorating, since there was an honest to god vase of flowers on the desk and that was the only artsy thing in the entire room. He dropped his bag on the floor and looked around the room for some sort of note from his dad.

There wasn't one.

"Was there really a dead body?" Jo asked, bouncing into the guest room with a bright grin, a handful of kittens, and wide eyes.

"There was a dead person and a dead ghoul," Dean replied. "So there were really two dead bodies."

Jo looked absolutely thrilled by this and Dean found himself slightly disturbed. He gave her the lecture on not mixing ammonia and bleach – at which point Sammy turned up and pointed out that the main components of mustard gas came from mixing ammonia and bleach. When Dean and Jo both stared at him in confusion, he then launched into a monologue about WWI and trench-warfare and the 1918 Armistice and before long it had been an hour of Sammy speaking non-stop about a war Dean couldn't care less about.

When they were finally beckoned down to dinner, Dean figured he could probably write a book about WWI from all angles and, hell, he could even recite a few of the rallying cries.

"So Sam, how was your first day?" Ellen asked as they sat down at the table.

"It was pretty good," Sammy replied, smiling at her. Dean wanted to shake his head at his baby brother's innocent smile, but he couldn't begrudge the kid anything.

"There's a cute girl in one of his classes," Dean said. "Amy."

"Dean," Sammy said, giving him a death stare.

Bobby and Ellen swapped amused looks.

"What about you, Dean? Did you make any friends or were you too busy in detention?" Bobby asked.

"I made friends," Dean said in a voice so defensive it surprised him. "I made friends with a girl named Charlie and a guy named Benny."

"Is Charlie hot?" Ash asked, looking suddenly enthusiastic.

Dean glared at him and Ellen cuffed him upside the head.

"She's cute, but she likes girls so it doesn't really matter if I think she's hot," Dean replied. Ash looked disappointed and returned to his dinner.

By the time he was trying to fall asleep later that night (he'd tried to read his assigned English homework, but had only got through half the first chapter before he decided Steinbeck was an ornery old bastard and he could fuck off) he rolled back over his first day. Sure, there had been the shitty things like the dead body and the ghoul and inhaling accidental mustard gas, but there was also Charlie and Benny and even Castiel.

Against his better will, bright blue eyes haunted his dreams.

•

The next day, he turned up for English and took his seat next to Charlie. She wanted to hear everything about his detention and he was halfway through explaining it when Benny showed up and sat on Dean's other side.

Benny thought it was hilarious that there had been a dead body in the ceiling of the locker room, but Charlie was a little bit annoyed with him for it. Dean didn't have a lot of experience dealing with normal people, but he was pretty sure no one normal got annoyed at the presence of a dead body because it was unsanitary. Usually, it was because of the fact there was a dead body. Dean appreciated Charlie's attitude.

Benny spent math educating Dean on the better parts of the female population of their school, particularly a hot senior named Cassie and an equally hot girl in their grade named Lisa who had a thing for bad boys. Benny was quick to point out that Dean fit into that category, at least by general attitude, and encouraged him to go for it. Dean shrugged it off and they made their way to science.

After the gummy bear incident from the day before, their teacher seemed convinced it was a good idea to titrate an acid down to neutral. Dean was entirely unclear on what the hell he was talking about and almost missed it as he was assigning lab partners. Sam and Dean had only missed the first two weeks of school, but he was still surprised they hadn't been assigned lab partners yet. In his previous schools, the teachers had always griped about the fact they had to accommodate him and his drifter's schedule.

"Alright, let's see…" their teacher said, reading names off popsicle sticks. "Charlie Bradbury and…Benny Lafitte."

Charlie and Benny high fived from their seat in the back. Dean cracked a smile and drummed his pencil on the table.

The teacher pulled another popsicle stick and squinted at it like he was having trouble reading his own handwriting.

"Castiel Milton," he read. He pulled the other. "And Dean Winchester."

Castiel lifted his hand in acknowledgement from across the room. Dean wasn't sure if he was trying to say, "yes, hi, I'm Castiel," because he honestly thought Dean didn't remember him, or if he was just saying hi.

Dean tuned out while their teacher paired off the rest of the class and then made his way over to the lab table where he was supposed to be working with Castiel. Charlie and Benny immediately claimed the other half of their table and the four of them went to work setting up the lab. Dean was forced to pull out his notebook – Jo's Rapunzel book – and Benny started laughing.

"Oh shut up, it's my little sister's," Dean grumbled, flipping it open.

Castiel's head cocked sideways like a puppy's and he gave Dean a very confused look.

"Jo," Dean replied. Ash, if he had to give him a family label, would be a cousin always. Jo, on the other hand, had always been the little sister Dean never had, especially since he'd known her for her entire life. Her biological father, Bill Harvelle, had been John's partner for a few years back leading up to and immediately after Jo's birth. After he died, and Ellen married Bobby, Jo became even more part of the family.

"She has your eyes," Charlie said, nodding at his notebook.

"Why do people keep saying that?" Dean asked, pulling on his lab goggles. After his detention, he was slightly more wary about chemical reactions.

"Because you have startlingly green eyes," Castiel replied, putting on his own goggles. With his perpetual bedhead, he looked the perfect part of the mad scientist. "As does Rapunzel."

Benny laughed and Dean did his best not to look excessively annoyed.

"I dunno," Charlie said. "With the freckles he could be Hiccup."

"I could be who?" Dean asked, his eyebrows contracting in the centre of his face.

"From _How to Train Your Dragon_," Charlie explained, putting on her own lab goggles. "We should do science now."

Dean nodded in agreement, eager to no longer be thought of as a Disney character. His life might be a lot of things, but Disney movie with a happy ending was not one of them.

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